


Enigma

by pouraglass



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Denali is straight... or is she, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Lesbian AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Rosé is smitten and charming af, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29336313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pouraglass/pseuds/pouraglass
Summary: A chance meeting on a Friday night leads to a relationship neither of them can quite define.And they only have two weeks to figure it out.
Relationships: Denali/Rosé (Drag Race)
Comments: 77
Kudos: 136





	1. Phenomenon

Leaning against the dirty, graffitied brick wall by the entrance of the club, Denali is fighting the pounding music and the fog in her mind to pinpoint when exactly her Friday night has taken such an unexpected turn.

Initially, when Kahmora texted her merely four hours ago, a drink sounded like an excellent idea. It started out very chill, the two of them in their favorite bar, sipping on gin and tonics, talking about anything and everything. Denali would have been perfectly content with just listening to Kahmora ramble about her boyfriend and occasionally chiming in with some remarks. It was easy, not at all exhausting – and no room for sudden surprises or unreasonable decisions.

That is, until a group chat notification flared up on both of their phones.

 **_The Squad:_ ** _Gaga night @ phenom, come down bitcheeeees! <3_

"Oh, it’s Dee!" Kahmora grinned, and Denali hummed in acknowledgement. Detox, their mutual college friend who had just recently moved back to Chicago from Los Angeles, was definitely the party girl of their group. Back in the day, many a story had been passed around on campus about her shenanigans and seducing the entire cheerleading team – boys included – at various house parties, but nothing managed to overshadow the fact that she had been the top fashion design student.

"Can we go? Please, ‘Nali…?"

Denali sighed. "I don’t know, honey. I’m not really feeling it tonight, I’d rather just chill." After a sip from her drink, she added gently. "I mean, you can go if you want, I’ll go home then and watch some Golden Girls, or something."

"But I don’t wanna go without you! It’s our night! If you don’t wanna come, I won’t go either."

"It’s perfectly okay, Kahmora."

Kahmora’s glance dropped down to her phone just as another message popped up (" _drinks on me, get your asses here asap_ "), practically oozing with disappointment. Denali watched her type in a devastated response with way too many crying emojis, and that was the moment when she said goodbye to her relaxed night with her best friend.

"Oh, damn it. Alright, let’s go. But you’re paying for our gin tonics."

Kahmora’s face instantly lit up and as she hopped over to the bar to pay, she hugged Denali.

* * *

The Phenomenon is the kind of not-very-high-end, but still nice clubs that is most often frequented by, who Denali in her head lovingly calls, “artsy gays”. The kind where the bathroom stalls are covered with band stickers, weird artworks are hanging over the dance floor, and the cocktails have names like “Dances with Wenches” and “Sand in the Crack”. It has been Detox’s favorite place for years, and Denali has a certain fondness for it too, even though she has never felt like she could fit in as the serious athlete she’s always been.

She leans her head back, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. A few steps away from her, a couple is making out, a pink-haired woman pinning a smaller girl against the wall, almost devouring her. Two drag queens are smoking, chatting about some reality show Denali has never heard of. The bouncer is playing on his phone.

The heavy bass of “Applause” is vibrating through the bricks into her skull, and it is not an unpleasant feeling. She closes her eyes, trying to remember how many shots she’s had since they arrived – she has lost count after the fifth, graciously offered to her for free by the butch bartender who tried to hit on her –, and thinks about how much she still has to dance so that all this won’t be that painful tomorrow. With such an alcohol intake and her strict diet, she won’t be able to drink for weeks, but at that moment, this idea is more alluring than devastating.

Suddenly, someone taps her on the shoulder.

"Are you okay, ‘Nali?" Kahmora asks, her voice a mixture of concern, drunkenness, and high from the music.

Denali smiles at her. "Of course, I just needed some air."

"Are you having a good time?"

"Yes! I’ll be right back with you, tell Dee I’m fine."

Nodding, Kahmora beams at her, then disappears back in the club. Denali sighs, reaching up to remove the hair tie from her loose ponytail. She _is_ having a great time, she loves dancing – she just sometimes wonders whether she is getting too old for these kinds of parties.

In the corner of her eye, she notices that the couple stopped making out, and the smaller girl is now walking down the street, while the pink-haired woman is going back towards the entrance. At first, Denali doesn’t pay attention to her and just goes back to her thoughts, inwardly whining about how she feels like an old lady, when she hears a deep voice.

"Wow…"

Even though there is absolutely no reason for her to look up, Denali does anyway, and finds that the woman has stopped on her tracks in the door and is now staring right at her.

Detox and Kahmora, both bisexuals, have always teased her for being the straightest person they have ever known, but Denali waved them off all the time. _"I wouldn’t fuck a shoe either. I can still tell if a pair looks good though,_ " she used to argue, and when they said it wasn’t quite how it worked, she laughed. She is a professional figure skater, it is certainly in her blood to appreciate a female body, but nevertheless, she has realized this barely ever happened off the ice, and that is fine in her book.

But here, illuminated by the neon lights coming from the Phenomenon, even Denali must admit that the woman in front of her is stunning. Her faux hawk that seemed to be hot pink under the streetlamp is actually a shade of powdery pastel, her blood red lipstick is smudged, and her light-colored eyes ( _blue…? grey?_ ), while slightly clouded, are radiating genuine awe and warmth.

In her direction.

Denali smiles at her, starting to feel a little uncomfortable under the woman’s gaze, and she hopes this is enough for her to leave her alone, but she manages to get the completely opposite reaction. Before she knows it, the pinkette steps to her, mimicking her as she leans against the wall as well, her leather-clad shoulder inches from her own. Denali stares at the drag queens still deep in discussion, trying to seem nonchalant, cringing inside at conversation to come. _I’m not gay, go away._

"Witty pick up line."

At first, Denali is unsure if she’s heard her right. She looks at her, and the grin on the other’s face suddenly and inexplicably releases her tension in a modest chuckle. "Offhanded dismissal," she says mischievously, and the woman laughs.

"Fuck, that was my best one."

Denali shrugs. "Better luck next time." She watches her reach into her purse for a pack of cigarettes. When she offers her one, Denali shakes her head. "No, thank you."

The woman smiles as she pops a cigarette between her lips and lights it up. Tattoos adorn some of her long, manicured fingers. "So…" she starts a few minutes of smoke-filled silence later. "How are you tonight?"

Denali huffs, but decides to play along anyway. "Really? Is this the second best you can do?"

"Hey, you murdered my literal wittiest pick up line. Give me a break."

"Won’t your girlfriend be jealous if she finds out you are flirting with random girls?"

The words are out before Denali can stop herself, and for a brief moment, she wonders why this was necessary. This is a game, yes, and the woman is gorgeous, and funny, and she is clearly interested in her, _yes_ , but she still shouldn’t push too far, it wouldn’t be fair. She winces at herself, making a mental note to never drink again. Alcohol kills her social skills. "I’m sorry."

The woman, on the other hand, mutters a perplexed "huh?" before bursting out with laughter. "Oh! Yeah! No, I didn’t even know her name, we just _enjoyed_ each other’s company for a little while."

Denali sighs in relief as she passes the ball back to her on a deadpan tone, "Romantic."

"I would very much like to know your name though." Her voice has lost the laughter, it is low, silky, and serious, and Denali can’t deny that she kind of enjoys listening to it. Awkwardness is starting to bubble in her stomach again alongside the tequilas, and her comeback is not as confident as she wanted it to be.

"And why would you like to know my name?"

The woman smiles at her again, and it is as gentle as the ember on the tip of her cigarette. "Because I’m going back home in like, two weeks, and it would be a nice souvenir."

Denali was not expecting such an honest reply – she thought she would hear something along the lines of " _for me to know what to scream when you go down on me tonight_ ", and probably that would have been the moment when she walked away. Interest piqued, she asks instead, "Home? Where?"

There is a shift in their conversation that Denali is sure the pinkette can feel as well, because when she answers, her flirty tone is gone, and the game is officially over. Without the façade to conquer, this unknown woman is much more approachable to Denali. Someone new, someone interesting.

"New York," she grins proudly, and Denali nods, latching onto the information.

"I was there. A couple of years ago, for a championship."

The woman lifts an eyebrow. "Championship?"

"I’m a figure skater."

And then, they just talk. Denali finds out that the woman is a singer and came to Chicago for a few gigs in some small bars with her indie girl trio, Stephanie’s Child. She asks about a million questions about their band, their music, their story, and the other enthusiastically answers everything while smoking one cigarette after the other. In return, the woman seems to be genuinely curious about skating which she admittedly doesn’t know anything about.

Their talk is so pleasant, natural, and warm that when Kahmora and Detox appear in the door looking for Denali, she swears she feels a chill running through her body.

"Oh-ho-ho, what do we have here?" Detox hollers, stepping over to Denali and draping an arm over her shoulder. "Didn’t think you of all people would score at a place like this, ‘Nals. And such a fine prize too! I knew you had that gayness in you after all."

Denali blushes to the tip of her ears and tries to shrug Detox’s arm off, while the woman laughs. "Oh no, if anything, _she_ ’s the prize."

"Who’s your new friend?" Kahmora chimes in curiously, and that is when Denali realizes they have never told each other their names. She looks up at the pinkette, who then holds out her hand to her. Denali shakes it, swiftly returning the kind smile directed at her.

"Enjoy your Chicago souvenir," she says, and she doesn’t miss the playful glint in those greyish eyes. "My name is Denali."

"I’m Rosé."

From that moment on, Rosé is included in their little party group for the night, and as Denali jumps around with her to “Rain On Me” holding her hands after another round of shots, she feels almost as happy as when she is on ice. It’s been such a long time since she made a new friend. When Rosé hugs her goodbye, she barely wants to let her go.

An hour later, already in her own cozy bed, she is still grinning dreamily at her phone. She managed to find some tracks by Stephanie’s Child online, and now she is listening to one that is titled “Hydrangea”, a song about, what Denali believes, might be lost love. Heartbreak.

Rosé’s smooth, rich vocals simultaneously pierce through the solemn instrumentals and flow with them. Denali drifts off to sleep with her voice wrapped around her heart. She doesn’t even notice the new friend request notification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been literally years since I last wrote fanfiction, but what can I say, Rosénali brings out the fourteen-year-old fangirl in me. :D
> 
> I'd love to know what you think, and stay tuned for more! <3
> 
> Take care, stay safe!


	2. Plans

Rosé is eternally grateful to her band mates for letting her sleep in the following morning.

Their shared hotel room is completely empty, the curtains are closed, and there is a glass of water and some painkillers on the bedside table, no doubt prepared by Lagoona. Beside the lamp, she also finds a note written in Jan’s loopy handwriting: " _Hope you had fun, went out sightseeing. Don’t forget the show, see you at 5!_ "

Rosé sighs and grabs her phone. Almost noon, earlier than she expected. She barely registers that she has plenty of time to get ready and meditate, when she sees it – an approved friend request ( _when did I add her…?_ ).

And a message.

She has never unlocked her phone quicker in her life.

**_Denali Foxx:_ ** _Thank you for the request! :) I’ve listened to some of your songs. I LOVE THEM!! “Glass Castles” is absolutely beautiful, but my fave is “Hydrangea”! I kept listening to it all morning, I think I broke the Youtube replay button, haha. You guys have a new fan! <3_

For a solid five minutes, Rosé is just staring at the words, her heart skipping multiple beats, then starting up again a million miles per hour. "Fuck," she groans.

It has been extremely hard to admit even to herself, but as soon as she saw Denali for the first time last night, Rosé immediately knew she was a goner, and this terrifies her. When she approached her, she was hoping for another easy round, just a new notch on her bedpost.

Something temporary, something uncomplicated.

**_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _get on spotify, angelface ;) but thanks, i appreciate it. glass castles is lagoona’s baby, but i wrote hydrangea, so i gotta say you have an impeccable taste :3_

Lying back on her bed, she gathers the remainders of her common sense and sarcastically considers that maybe it was the alcohol (or her horniness from that brief hook-up in the restroom) that made Denali seem prettier than she was – but then again, no number of shots could ever trick her into thinking that someone was more intelligent than they actually were, and Denali genuinely surprised her with their conversation. Yesterday, she was smart, funny, kind, and beautiful. Today, Rosé taps on her profile to see if it is still true.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" Her vocabulary is rather small this morning.

If anything, Denali is infinitely more interesting than Rosé could have imagined.

Her profile is a mishmash of hilarious memes, articles, K-pop songs, and group photos, a lot with her friends from yesterday. She is twenty-eight, born in Alaska. Mexican-Jewish, speaks Spanish fluently. She toured with Circle du Soleil for a while and has a pet tarantula named Gretchen. Multiple gold medalist. Skate and dance instructor at a community center. Third degree black belt in taekwondo. Freelance make-up artist for figure skaters. Compared to her life, Rosé almost feels like she hasn’t accomplished anything.

She finds a folder labeled “Icy & Spicy”, and it is full of skating videos. The first one immediately blows her mind – it is some Ariana Grande song, and the whole shot is only two minutes, but Denali is… _perfect_.

Her movements line up with each beat of the song so accurately that Rosé’s mouth literally hangs open in wonder. Every spin, every jump in sync, it is amazing and satisfying to watch. She marvels at the ease with which Denali glides on the ice, and how her entire body is glowing with pure joy. How her thighs flex before a triple Lutz ( _how the hell do I know what a goddamn triple Lutz is?_ ) in that short, deep blue skating dress. And that dimpled smile…

Yes. Definitely a goner.

She is so engrossed in the videos she almost doesn’t notice that Denali has texted her back. It crosses Rosé’s mind to ignore her – even better, to block her, take back last night, bury everything into the depths of her memory before it gets even worse, because she _did_ see the dreaded " _interested in: men_ " on her profile too, and she _did_ promise herself after the incident three years ago to protect herself, she’s been doing so well, and she doesn’t need this…

**_Denali Foxx:_ ** _YOU WROTE THIS??? Omg, Rosé… wow. And your voice… It’s like, idk, velvet? Does that make sense?_

**_Denali Foxx:_ ** _It’s honestly beautiful. I was thinking if you could maybe allow me to use this song for a routine…?_

**_Denali Foxx:_ ** _… pleeeeeease? Please say yes, I already have some ideas, don’t make me throw them out! :’(_

**_Denali Foxx:_ ** _Also, “angelface”, wtf? XD_

She doesn’t need this at all.

**_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _yea sure, use it if you want. no need for like, legal permission or anything. just tag us if you upload it to somewhere, k?_

Rosé already knows she is going to regret this, but her brain enjoys working against her, and it is suddenly recalling with alarming clarity the way Denali glanced at her with those big brown eyes, her voice when she laughed at some band-related story Rosé told her, and the warmth of her body as she hugged her at the end of the night.

**_Denali Foxx:_ ** _YESYESYESYESYEEEEES!!!!!!! Thank you, Rosé!!! <3<3<3 I owe you, thank you SO MUCH! <3 It’ll be awesome, I swear! You’ll love it! <3_

She locks her phone and tosses it onto the carpeted floor.

" _Fuck_."

* * *

"I know that face," Lagoona says a few hours later while they are discussing the final details over a quick dinner before the gig. Rosé frowns, trying her best to seem casual and failing miserably. _I’m surprised it took you this long to say anything…_

"You should. You’ve been looking at it for years."

Nothing can escape Lagoona’s hawk eyes, the woman has known her since they were teenagers. She is especially good at reading Rosé’s expressions whenever anything happens, no matter how blank she is trying to be. This in itself doesn’t bother Rosé – it impresses her even.

The problem is that Lagoona _always_ points it out and doesn’t let it go until she gets an explanation.

"Don’t be a smart-ass, kid. What happened last night?"

Jan perks up from the track list in front of her curiously, and Rosé takes the opportunity to divert the attention from herself. "Jan, can you please add “Hydrangea”? To close, maybe? Would it be okay, Bloo?"

"Yes, sure, whatever. Now spill the tea, McCorkell."

Rosé takes a bite of her sandwich. "If I do, will you get off my back?"

"Never."

"Thought so," she sighs. It is not like she doesn’t want to tell her best friends what is going on, but she herself isn’t even sure what is going on. For most of the day, she managed to avoid her phone and focus on the show tonight. She has gotten dangerously close to giving in though, several times in fact.

Lagoona and Jan are staring at her, waiting, so Rosé relents. "I met someone. She is pretty, sweet, and talented. We talked a lot. Oh yeah, and she is straight. End of the story. Can we please work now?"

"Talented at _what exactly_?"

"Oh, Rosie!" Jan cuts in, leaning across the table to hug her. "I’m so happy for you!"

"Didn’t you hear that she is straight?" Rosé groans, and Lagoona shrugs in the background.

"You know, women are like spaghetti–"

"If you finish that sentence, I quit."

"Did you invite her to tonight’s gig?" Jan asks sitting back, and she looks absolutely horrified when Rosé slowly shakes her head. "Text her, you dummy, what are you doing?!"

Rosé can’t say that the thought hasn’t occurred. She was toying with the possibility of inviting Denali, wondering whether a new atmosphere, a little concert at a random bar would be different than yesterday’s party. Maybe she was too emotionally charged last night after all and seeing her again could help shatter the perfect illusion she has created of the skater.

Yes, the more she sees and talks with Denali, the more disillusioned and bored Rosé will get, until they’ll have to leave eventually, and it will be over.

This is not the end, she is not a goner. She is unable to fall in love anymore anyway, so it could work, she should be safe.

A flawless plan.

"I can’t with you two," she says, standing up with her phone and cigarette to go outside.

Half past 5. Denali would have plenty of time to get to the place. Rosé’s thumb hovers over the keyboard, reconsidering her plan for a second, then she exhales all her doubts with the smoke.

**_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _np_

**_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _listen. i know it’s kinda last-minute, but we have a gig at 7 tonight at the empty bottle_

**_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _do you wanna come? we'll get you in_

Immediately “seen”.

The three dots appear in a minute, as if taunting her, and they remain there until Rosé finishes her cigarette. She has no idea what she wants. If Denali declines her invitation, she won’t be able to execute the Plan, and she will be distracted by the memory of those skating videos for the rest of the night.

If she accepts and shows up, then… _then what?_ Rosé will cross that bridge when she gets there.

There’s still no reply as she walks back to her band mates. Lagoona and Jan are finalizing the set list, but she feels their eyes on her when she grabs her phone again to type in a last message.

**_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _if you need one more reason, we’ll be playing hydrangea as well ;)_

The answer only arrives when they are sitting in a taxi on their way to The Empty Bottle.

**_Denali Foxx:_ ** _Not that I needed any more reasons to come, but now I’ll def be there. <3 I’m your #1 fan after all!_

"Is it her?" Jan smiles next to her, and Rosé nods.

"She’s coming." _Just focus on your plan, McCorkell, and you’ll be fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for the sweet comments on the first chapter and all the kudos! <3 Your appreciation warmed my heart, and I really hope you enjoyed this one too. :)
> 
> I've decided to update on Saturdays (Chapter One was the test run ;D), so please, look forward to Chapter Three next week! :)
> 
> Take care, stay safe!


	3. Voices

**_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _wow. pretty ballsy to call yourself our #1 fan when you’ve only been listening to us for like, what, half a day? i know we are good, but not that good :D_

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _anyway, see you later then!_

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _ <3_

Denali has been sitting on a pile of clothes with her phone in her hand, staring at the pink heart emoji in Rosé’s latest text for a massive fifteen minutes.

She attributes the butterflies that have been fluttering in her stomach for the entire day to the excitement of making a brand new friend, to getting to know an interesting person, even though the feeling reminds her very much of all the crushes she’s had from her ice skating partner in college to the cashier in the grocery store last week. There must be a connection after all – in a similar way to those guys, Denali wants to impress Rosé as well.

She has always wanted to impress _everyone_ , really, either with her skating, or her personality, or even just her smile. Some have accused her of being fake, but that isn’t the case at all. It is the only way she knows how to make friends, and she is always genuinely impressed by other people in return.

It’s not like Rosé had to try especially hard though.

Honestly, Denali doesn’t even know what kind of first impression she has made on Rosé, not anymore. She thought she had a pretty good idea yesterday, but as she is playing with a fringe on a floral shirt, she is unsure. She scrolls back to the beginning of their conversation, and she cringes at herself. "You are trying too hard, girl…" she mutters standing up, and kicks the discarded dresses on the floor.

When she got the invitation to the concert, Denali was so overjoyed that she could barely figure out the right reply. But now she is questioning herself, and the voices in her head are relentless.

What if Rosé didn’t even want to invite her? What if she’s just playing with her? Denali was so happy for the prospect of a new friend that she didn’t even consider if the other felt the same way. Even if she’ll be gone in two weeks, there is… something. An instant connection? A click? Would that even be possible?

Has Rosé felt it too?

What if she thinks she is annoying? Or needy?

_Or fake?_

6:02, and she is still in her underwear. At that moment, Denali just wants to curl up in her bed and cry, when her phone lights up.

The selfie she has received was made in a small dressing room. She recognizes Rosé ( _oh, her eyes are hazel actually…_ ), and the two others on each side leaning into her must be her band mates. The brunette with the lavender streaks is holding up a peace sign, a brilliant grin on her face, while the woman with the heavy blue eyeshadow is making a goofy, exaggerated expression of disgust.

Rosé is just smiling gently, and Denali can feel the love she has for these two. _"They are my family, I would be nothing without them,"_ she remembers her saying that last night, and Denali’s heart grows warm.

She is about to make a private observation on how nice Rosé looks, when she erupts with laughter at the message that follows.

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _if i'm not around, one of these assholes will get you in_

Denali dives back into her closet with renewed determination.

Rosé is waiting for her.

* * *

Ten minutes before the show, she removes her earphones in front of The Empty Bottle, peeking through the large windows. She sees a man at the door, some people bustling about, and a small stage in the corner set up with microphones, an acoustic guitar, a bass, and a keyboard. The interior seems cozy and inviting, vintage décor, with beer bottles lining the wall behind the bar, and small tea candles on the tables. Denali’s eyes are instinctively looking for a powder pink head. _Don’t be stupid, she’s probably backstage._

Suddenly, a pair of hands grab her shoulders from behind, and she jumps out of her skin, almost headbutting the glass.

"Hey there!" The peppy voice belongs to the lavender-streaks girl, who winces apologetically as Denali turns around to face her. "Gosh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!"

"Uhm… it’s alright. No worries. Hi."

"I’m Jan! You must be Denali, right? Come on, I’ll get you in." No room for further questions or hesitation – Jan hooks her arm with Denali’s and practically drags her into the club through the front door. Immediately hit by the warm air, the faint smell of beer, and the tornado-like brunette on her side, she wobbles on her heels, her head spinning for a second.

The guy checking the tickets stops them, eyeing Denali suspiciously, but Jan just laughs and waves him off, ever so cheerfully. "Move aside, Brian. It’s my girl, Denali!"

He rolls his eyes, but lets them through anyway, and Jan leads her to the bar. "Okay, it was really nice to meet you, but I gotta go now! Enjoy the show, and I’ll see you afterwards!" With that, she then leans in and kisses her cheek. Before Denali can react in any way, she’s gone, leaving her alone.

It took her approximately ten seconds to get in, but now what?

She orders a non-alcoholic beer for herself and tries to calm the butterflies by looking around. People are starting to sit by the tables near the stage, and the next thing she notices is that they are dressed very casually. _Good job, Denali, definite overkill_ , she sighs, unhooking her heels from the barstool and standing up to move closer. She finds a seat on the side where some chairs are set up. Far enough, but not _too far_.

Cradling her glass as the overhead lights dim to an atmospheric semi-darkness, Denali wonders if it’s still too late to run away. What was she planning to achieve by coming anyway? Getting to know Rosé better? She perused her profile on her way here, and she barely found anything other than promotional stuff for their gigs, and a few photos of the band. Compared to her, Denali feels like an awkwardly open book. _She will think I’m lame if she doesn’t already._

Her inner demons are cackling – they are having a field day today. _Because you_ are _lame, you idiot. Friends? What the hell, you are not friends._

_She doesn’t want anything from you. She was only interested in you in the first place because she thought you were gay._

_What are you doing here? You are trying too hard, just go the fuck home._

_Nobody likes you. You just pressure them into liking you. That’s what you are doing right now too. Absolutely disgusting._

_You are horrible._

"Good evening, everyone. We are Stephanie’s Child."

Rosé’s voice.

Rosé’s voice has muted all the others in her brain at once, and Denali lifts her chin up. The stage is swimming in blue, pink, and purple lights, and it’s one of the most ethereal things she has ever seen. Jan is behind the keys, and the third woman she hasn’t met yet but assumes is Lagoona, is on the bass.

Tank top, torn jeans, and tattoos, Rosé is in the middle, with her long hair cascading down on her shoulders, her lips painted deep red, a rainbow-colored strap on her guitar. She looks almost like a completely different person, but in essence, still her. Fierce, witty, natural Rosé.

She starts playing, her eyes closed, and the others follow her in perfect harmony. Denali recognizes the instrumental version of “Glass Castles” after a few bars, and everything fades away around her.

Instead of the demon screams, her mind is replaying the girls’ intertwined vocals from the original track in tandem with the live music. The serenity that washes over her is only comparable to the calmness she feels on ice. _Unbelievably beautiful._

When Rosé looks up right at her after the song and she _winks_ , the tears are already gathering in Denali’s eyes. They are stubbornly holding on to her lashes through “Howls”, “Sour Heart”, “Living on the Moon”, and a bunch of others she remembers but can’t recall the title – holding on even when Rosé sings, her deeper tone standing out in the trio. Her voice is her soul now, and with every syllable, she is opening it up more and more to the audience. To her.

Denali knew Rosé would be fantastic, but this… She can’t think of any proper adjectives to describe how her singing makes her feel. Fascinated. Intrigued. Elated. Safe.

 _Seen_.

Truly seen for the first time in her life, and it is the most wonderful and most terrifying feeling.

"Our last song tonight is dedicated to a special fan. Enjoy, thank you for coming, and take care on your way home."

The very first note of “Hydrangea” is enough to let the persistent tears glide down her cheek, and by the time Denali realizes what is going on, she is weeping silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the love you've shown for this little story! <3
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll see you next week with a longer chapter! ;)
> 
> Take care, stay safe!


	4. Home

Her eyes roam around the people in the bar, but Rosé can’t find Denali. She is starting to wonder whether she just imagined her being there.

It was nothing short of a miracle that she managed to notice her on stage through the mist that has descended upon her brain at Jan’s earlier announcement in the dressing room (" _She’s here, Rosie, and oh my gosh, she is beautiful!_ "). As if she can read her thoughts, Jan beside her places her hand gently on her shoulder, "I swear she was here. There’s no way I could’ve mistaken her for anyone else."

Rosé doesn’t say anything, just leans back and continues to scan the room. She dismissively smiles at a pretty blonde who comes up to thank them for the show – after any other gig, Rosé would have happily leaped into action.

Not tonight.

"I’m going out to smoke," she announces to Lagoona, leaving her to deal with the disappointed fangirl and makes a beeline to the door.

Why does she feel so bitter all of a sudden? Because the girl she’s known for _one day_ didn’t wait for her? What was she expecting anyway? Some kind of romantic bullshit? Like Denali jumping into her arms screaming that she is gay for her now?

No, she is trying to persuade herself that the only reason why her chest feels so tight is because she can’t go through with the Plan like this, she would have to start the long and tedious process of forgetting Denali on her own, and she doesn’t need this right now at all.

It would have been much easier if they could’ve hooked up last night. Quick sex and moving on. That’s more like Rosé’s style, not this silly pining over someone she barely knows.

The cool spring air immediately clears her mind, and Rosé smiles to herself. She can do it. She’s done it before. It’ll take a while, but she’ll eventually get over this madness for sure. Just a few days. A week, tops. She’ll smoke a cigarette, go back to have a great time with her band mates, enjoy the post-show high, maybe have a few more beers and then possibly take that blonde home, and–

"Hi!"

Big doe eyes meet hers, and Rosé literally forgets everything, including her own name.

_Déjà-vu._

Denali is standing by the entrance, and Jan was right, she is nothing if not _absolutely beautiful_ , basking in the warm light coming from the club. Her black hair is in a loose bun on the top of her head, with two long curls framing her face. Her make-up is modest and feminine. Her yellow dress is adorned with tiny forget-me-nots, and when she goes up to her, she is ever so slightly taller than Rosé in those blue heels.

"Thank you for inviting me, I loved the show!" Denali grins, and all Rosé can see is dimples.

_Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck…_

As soon as her heart slows down to a healthier tempo, Rosé smirks to cover up the lack of coherent thoughts in her head, "You sure like standing outside of bars, huh? Skating is not paying so well?"

Denali laughs and playfully hits her bare arm, sending sparkles through Rosé’s body. "Idiot."

They both watch the smoke from Rosé’s cigarette spiraling upwards for a brief moment, until Denali speaks again, her voice light, but serious. "I did love it though. It was… extraordinary. Thank you."

Rosé smiles. "I saw you. From the stage. I thought you left afterwards without saying hi."

"No, I wouldn’t have done that!" Denali objects instantly, then looks down. A blush is spreading across her cheeks. "I… I just had to come out for a second, because… well, you made me cry, and I had to get myself together, okay?"

 _How are you so fucking adorable, are you even real?_ "Aw, I didn’t think we’d be that bad! I’d be happy to give you a full refund on your ticket, but I happen to know for a fact that you didn’t pay for it, angelface."

"Shut up, I cried because you were so good, Rosé! Honestly…!"

"Yeah, of course."

Even through the smoke she can smell Denali’s floral perfume, and it stirs something up deep inside Rosé.

This is a different kind of attraction – a kind that she hasn’t felt for years. Last night, and even this morning while she was meditating, she failed to figure out why exactly this girl in front of her was so special, but right there, looking into her eyes and reciprocating her warm smile, she finally understands.

With Denali, she feels like she has returned home after a long, exhausting journey. And Rosé decides to shut her brain up for the time being, she’ll deal with reality and her plan later.

Now she just wants to rest for a while. _It’s not too much to ask for._

_Is it?_

Just for a little while until she takes off again.

* * *

Jan is staring at Denali with pure awe. "A _figure skater_?! That is so freaking cool, wow!" she exclaims and snickers at her own pun. "See what I did there?"

Rosé doesn’t know if Denali fakes her chuckle or not, but she appreciates it either way. "Yes, thank you."

From the corner of her eye, she sees that Lagoona is less impressed – in fact, the older woman has been uncharacteristically silent so far.

Rosé can’t really tell what’s going on in her mind other than that something is definitely bothering her, usually that’s when she is so quiet. She wants to drag Lagoona away and ask what her problem is, because she believes it is Denali. The tense looks she directs at the girl on Rosé’s side when she thinks she doesn’t notice almost make Rosé want to stand up, grab Denali, and leave.

On the other hand, she is infinitely grateful for Jan’s loud but welcoming attitude, and Rosé takes a mental note to thank her later, possibly with her favorite chocolate chip cookies.

"Have you ever been to the Olympics?"

Rosé gazes at Denali, because she would like to hear that story as well, and her heart suddenly drops at the expression on the other’s face. It’s only for a fraction of a second, a barely perceptible shadow, and Denali’s dimples are back before she knows it, but it was there.

Unadulterated pain.

"Nope," she chimes, and it’s a little more forced than her usual tone. "I got close though!"

"Oh no…" Jan says, then smiles encouragingly. "Maybe next time, I bet you are very good!"

"Well, actually, I am _the best_ , but thank you for believing in me, I guess."

Denali’s offhanded remark makes all of them burst out, even Lagoona, who shoots an amused grin at Rosé over her beer. _Icebreaker, quite literally._

"So how do you guys know each other?" Denali asks after a while, clearly trying to divert the attention from her skating, and Rosé is ready to help her out. Yesterday, she already talked about how they formed the band, but not about how they met.

"Bloo and I went to the same high school," she replies, and Lagoona nods, her eyes finally tender with nostalgia, her sternness gone. "I was a freshman, she was a senior, and I used to have the biggest crush on her."

"What, seriously?" Denali giggles.

"She sent me love letters and shit," Lagoona adds, taking a sip of her drink.

"Yeah, and blue roses that I _fucking hand-painted_."

"I threw them out into the garbage can next to the gym."

"Nothing came out of it eventually," Rosé shrugs. "But it was okay. It turned out I needed a mother more than a girlfriend anyway."

Lagoona leans closer to them, her elbow on the table. "And trust me, Denali, someone had to discipline her. Not sure if I did a great job though, to be honest. Still questioning it every day."

Rosé lets out an exaggerated scoff. "What are you talking about, I’m a fucking delight."

Lagoona reaches over and pinches Rosé’s cheek. "Yes, you are, baby punk. Keep living that fantasy," she coos, and at this point Denali is laughing so hard that tears are forming in her eyes – it’s such a stunning sight, Rosé can’t even look away.

"How about you, Jan?" Denali asks between two breaths. Before Jan can answer, Lagoona lovingly tugs at the brunette’s ponytail.

"Oh, we just found this one on the side of the road one day."

" _Hey!_ "

"It’s a pretty badass story, actually," Rosé interjects. "Our previous pianist just outright didn’t show up before an important gig, like, completely disappeared on us. Jan was loitering around the place, saw us panicking, and asked if she could help out. Luckily, she was amazingly good. She plays and sings even better than the previous girl."

Denali’s shocked face earns a proud nod from Jan. "That’s right, I literally saved their asses."

"Wait, Rosé, you didn’t tell me this yesterday!"

Rosé can feel her cheeks heat up and pointedly glances at the floor. "I… don’t know, I can’t remember."

Denali lifts an eyebrow. "Is this your way of saying that you are _blessed_ to have Jan? Like you guys wouldn’t have a band without her? You wanted her to hear it. Right?"

"… maybe."

Lagoona and Denali let out an “aw” in unison, while Jan jumps up from her seat and rounds the table to crush a very flustered Rosé in a hug.

The rest of the night passes in a comfortable discussion, sometimes punctuated by laughter, fan congratulations, and an occasional cigarette break. Rosé is feeling more relaxed than she has been for a long time, even when Lagoona teases her, or Jan makes a cringy remark. Denali fits right in, talking with the others in such a natural manner as if she’s been a part of the group all along, and Rosé can’t wrap her head around what is happening. _How is she doing this?_

It feels too good to be true. It’s like a dream.

_Too perfect._

When the bartender comes over to tell them it is closing time, Rosé stands up. "One last smoke, then let’s roll."

Lagoona goes backstage to grab their bags, while Jan is packing up their instruments on the stage. On her way to the door, she hears Denali ask, "Do you need any help?"

"No, but thanks!" Jan calls out, so it’s only a matter of seconds that Rosé can feel Denali behind her, following her outside.

The street has grown quiet over the hours, most of the people in the bar having already left – it’s the exact opposite of yesterday’s pounding music and flashing lights. Rosé leans back against the wall staring up at an airplane that is crossing the night sky, wondering how she’s gotten here in the span of a single day.

So far, Denali has managed to defy the Plan entirely. Rosé doesn’t feel like she’ll ever get bored of her, and the illusion she has created of her is starting to form into a reality. Charming, sweet, intelligent, funny, gorgeous.

Unreachable.

Her throat tightens, trapping the smoke inside her lungs, and she convinces herself that it is the _smoke_ causing the pain in her chest, not anything else. She remembers how Lagoona gently consoled her after the “incident” while she was curled up in her embrace, sobbing her heart out. _"The best ones are always straight, kid. We cry about it, and then we move on to water other plants."_

Rosé looks at Denali next to her, eyes closed, enjoying the breeze – her gaze follows the plain of her forehead, her arched brows, to the upward curve of her lashes and the tip of her nose, down to the thin scar on her temple, her faint dimples, and her lips.

How could she think that this girl was her _home_ when she is so unattainable?

But then again, it is hauntingly fitting.

"What are you thinking about?"

Rosé startles from her musings at Denali’s voice, and a million replies go through her head at once, none of them appropriate. "Nothing, really," she sighs in the end. "I’m just tired."

"Yeah, me too." Denali opens her eyes and smiles at her. "But I had a lot of fun today. Thank you again for inviting me and letting me hang out with you."

"I should thank you for putting up with us," Rosé grins back. "We can be a handful."

She chuckles. "Yes, definitely. But it was really great!"

Dimples and perfume.

Rosé’s body is on autopilot as she reaches up and brushes Denali’s curl behind her ear – and she already suspects that the softness of Denali’s skin under her fingertips will be a memory that she’ll treasure for a long time. Longer than a few days or a week.

"I’m glad you stayed."

Right on cue, before Denali could respond, the other two appear in the door, and Rosé promptly turns away to take her guitar from Jan and her bag from Lagoona muttering a “sorry” for making them haul her stuff around. Lagoona just waves it off, exchanging a not-so-hidden wink with Jan.

They collectively decide that they can’t let Denali go home alone at this hour, so as their taxi arrives, they request a detour to her place. Sandwiched in the back between Jan and Denali, Rosé’s body gets insanely heavy with such an exhaustion from the day and her tumultuous thoughts that she can barely stay up. She is watching the city through the windshield, trying to spot any sights in the distance, when she feels pressure on her right shoulder.

Denali has dozed off resting against Rosé’s side, her head cradled securely in the crook of her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You make plans. Schedules. You are trying your best to stick to them, because "time management, baby!" - and then life gets in the way. :D
> 
> Everything is a little hectic for me right now, emotionally, mentally, and chores-wise. But I didn't want to leave you, my lovelies, without a chapter this week (especially not after all the wonderful, sweet, heart-warming, and humbling feedback I've received <3), so I've uploaded Chapter Four today instead of Saturday. We'll hopefully return to our regular programming next week. :)
> 
> I truly hope you've enjoyed one of my personal favorite chapters so far, and please, stay tuned for more! <3
> 
> Take care, stay safe!


	5. Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mild symptoms of depression – nothing severe, I promise, just inner voices, but please proceed with caution if you are sensitive, okay? <3

As a child, Denali started to believe that the ice could somehow read her mind and respond to her thoughts and feelings in a mysterious, transcendental way.

On her fifth birthday, for example, when her gift was her very first pair of skates, it was warm and forgiving, even as she fell on her butt over and over again. After getting an F on her math test that she was too embarrassed to show her parents, she thought the entire rink was mocking her, just like her classmates did. At seventeen, she and her friends ditched a boring party and drove up to the frozen Ballaine Lake – intoxicated and free under the starry sky, the world opened up to her at that moment, and she knew she could achieve anything. When her head collided with the solid surface during that championship, the ice turned blood red, full of spikes and cracks, and Denali was so terrified that it took her years until she could find the strength to skate again.

She knows she can always trust the ice to reflect her truest emotions back to her. Their relationship has been cultivated by graceful movements and cold endurance – the spins, backflips, Axels, and Salchows are Denali’s questions, her ideas, her prayers, and the answers are there in the way the ice almost yields to her will and receives her blades after her jumps. Similarly to people, communication between them on some days is easier, clearer, more straightforward.

Today is not one of those days.

"Come on, work with me here," Denali pleads after her sixth failed attempt at a triple Lutz while “Hydrangea” keeps playing in the background from her docked phone.

Something is definitely off, but she doesn’t understand why. She woke up happy this morning, no doubts and voices in her brain, her heart light when she saw the photos Rosé sent her from last night. Even the city looked brighter as she took the bus to the rink, saturated colors and friendly faces. The routine is already done in her head, she’s been composing it since she first heard the song, and it is challenging and elaborate. All she needs to do is practice, but neither the ice, nor her body seems to be willing to cooperate.

Denali lets out a tired sigh and takes off again. It suddenly feels like she is skating on gravel, and when her knees buckle landing from an extremely simple test-jump, she wants to scream. "Alright. That’s it," she groans and forces herself to glide towards the entrance.

She lies down on a bench and stares at the ceiling, letting the overhead spotlights blind her. “Hydrangea” repeats for the hundredth time – she absentmindedly mouths the words alongside Rosé’s singing. However, there is no solace in the song now, no shelter, just a painful swirl in the depth of her stomach that is starting to make her sick. Denali closes her eyes, and the demons are back.

_You are not good enough, sweetheart, don’t even try. You’ll crash your head again._

_If you fuck it up, she’ll hate you. What is this horrible routine anyway, what were you thinking?_

_Why do you want to impress her? Do you think she really cares about you? Denali, you are so fucking stupid._

"No…" Denali whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek and into her hair. "No, she cares."

_She doesn’t. Why would she? You’ve known her for two days. And she’s going to forget you after she leaves, no matter how hard you are pushing yourself onto her. So pathetic._

Sniffling softly, Denali wishes she could grab Rosé’s voice and wrap it around herself like the first time she heard it, but the darkness is growing too thick.

* * *

A few hours later, she is watching the sunset over the bay with a styrofoam cup of tea in her hand.

She tried again. And again, and again. Out of spite, out of frustration, and the ice responded in kind, not allowing her to move how she wanted. _Well, there’s always tomorrow, I guess,_ Denali says to herself, defeated, exhausted, and hopeless. At last, her demons have fallen asleep for now, because nobody replies as her eyes follow a seagull riding the wind.

It’s been a long time since she had to battle the voices so frequently, and she knows how to handle them, but they have apparently found a new chink in her armor. They are attacking her where she feels the most unstable.

_Rosé._

Everything happened so fast, _too fast_ , and Denali has lost her grip on the course of events that led her here.

Rosé has been nothing but open to her, introduced her to her family, let her see her soul on stage, and it is like they’ve known each other for ever. Out of the blue, Denali’s mind recalls the Ancient Greek theory of soulmates that she read about during her studies – humans with four arms, four legs, and two faces, separated and destined to search for each other all throughout their lives. Would that explain the click she felt with Rosé? The power that keeps pulling her towards this woman? The warmth that she felt in the pit of her stomach when she touched her last night?

Denali imagined that as soon as she found her other half, it would be instantaneous, like lightning, and she would know the answer to every question. But she is just more confused than ever.

 _Soulmates don’t have to be romantic_ , she reminds herself, and really, they don’t, but the butterflies are fluttering again in rampant disagreement. There’s no use in denying at this point that Denali is attracted to Rosé – her expressive hazel eyes that are so easy to read, and how she looks at her like she can truly see into her core – her smile when she cracks a joke at her expense – how Rosé’s voice manages to silence the thoughts raging in her head – how Denali feels like they have been friends in a previous life, even after two days.

Friends. _Friends can make you feel this way too, right?_

She thinks of Kahmora, Detox, and all the others who are so important to her, but nothing compares to the connection she has formed with Rosé. This is something different, something much more complicated, and she doesn’t understand what it means.

Denali looks down to check the time on her wristwatch. Just as she decides to go home, her phone vibrates in her pocket.

She stares blankly at the message, completely numb.

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _how did your practice go?_

As if Rosé could feel that she was thinking about her.

Her fingers are typing automatically, led by her basic instinct to cloak her heart, because she can’t let Rosé know how weak she truly is. She must impress her – she _wants_ to impress her.

 **_Denali Foxx:_ ** _It went very well, thank you! <3 :) _

Because what if she is mistaken? What if it is just her? There’s still no guarantee that Rosé could feel the click too.

What if she’s only nice to her because she is just generally a kind person? _What if she really doesn’t care?_

_… because why would she care about you?_

**_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _that’s great, i can’t wait to see your routine! :3_

Her head hurts, a dull force is pressing her skull from both sides, and she is about to break, but she can’t, _I can’t, I can’t let her know, I can’t let her see, she’d hate me…_

Putting her phone away, she sighs for what feels like the millionth time that day and finishes her cold tea.

_Well done, Denali, you are now officially a fake._

Denali tries to ignore the saboteurs, the pressure, and the heaviness of her steps as she slowly drags herself to the bus stop. The buildings are towering over her in the evening dusk, ridiculing her, threatening to collapse onto her, burying her in debris and glass.

_Weak._

* * *

Sleep is evading her. She is lying under her covers, her phone in her hand, listening to the faint sounds of traffic filtering in through her window when her resolve finally smashes into smithereens, like an icicle falling from a roof onto the concrete.

 **_Denali Foxx:_ ** _Actually… it didn’t go so well._

She shuts her eyes in resignation, unable to look anymore. _Why?_

This was not necessary at all, she should have continued to pretend, at least for the time being, until she figured everything out, until she felt stable. She has done it before. With the ice. She can do it again, she just needs to keep fighting the storm for a while, and she will win.

But she can’t even do that much, she has given in, and she despises herself for it. _You are horrible. So selfish._

She should have reached out to Kahmora instead – she was the one who helped Denali through the darkness years ago. Kahmora would have understood, she would have supported her. But no.

It had to be Rosé.

_Rosé…_

3 in the morning, Rosé won’t see this anyway until she wakes up. Denali could just easily remove her text, and she’ll be none the wiser. It would be very simple if her fingers didn’t turn into stone. _Just tap on “delete message”, you can do it_ –

Three replies vibrate in quick succession.

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _what happened?_

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _did you get hurt?_

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _are you okay?_

The screen of her phone is blinding her, and Denali wishes she could just melt into the sheets in shame.

 **_Denali Foxx:_ ** _Why are you still awake?_

 **_Denali Foxx:_ ** _Did you go out clubbing again? Found any pretty girls? ;)_

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _no, just can’t sleep. but it’s not important_

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _talk to me, denali_

_You made her worry, you idiot. She doesn’t need this. What kind of a friend are you? Are you even her friend?_

_No, you are not. You know what you are?_

_You are a burden._

**_Denali Foxx:_ ** _Just “Denali”? What happened to “angelface”? :)_

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _seriously_

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _please_

She can hear Rosé’s voice in her head, soft and so very caring, and Denali sighs before she types in an answer.

 **_Denali Foxx:_ ** _I’m fine, I’m not hurt. Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. :)_

Three dots appear and disappear for a few minutes, like Rosé is hesitating, so Denali goes ahead.

 **_Denali Foxx:_ ** _I am really sorry for bothering you._

The reply is immediate.

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _don’t be sorry, you are not bothering me. wanna tell me what’s wrong?_

Despite of the risk of Rosé hating her, Denali considers telling her everything – the demons, the thoughts, the numbness, the failure to nail her routine. She wants to tell Rosé how confused she is, how she doesn’t understand their fast friendship, her perturbing feelings, her inability to reach out to anyone else but her, her foreign attraction to her.

She wants to tell her how she is suddenly filled with dread that she will eventually lose Rosé.

 **_Denali Foxx:_ ** _Just a bad day. Weird thoughts. Happens all the time._

But ultimately, she is not strong enough yet. _Maybe one day._

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _that sucks, i'm sorry. but hey_

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _tomorrow will be better, angelface_

Denali can’t help but smile weakly and she almost believes her.

Dropping her phone onto her pillow, she forces herself to clear her mind and let everything go for a while so that she can rest, until one last message arrives.

 **_Rosé McCorkell:_ ** _here’s something to cheer you up. a little exclusive sneak peek just for you, #1 fan ;) don’t judge too hard tho, still a work in progress. wrote it this afternoon_

Denali opens the attached file – a recording of around two minutes, a guitar solo with Rosé humming where the vocals will be.

It’s unlike any other song Denali has heard from them. Slow, soothing, velvety, and… _hopeful?_ Hope without a single word. It reminds her of spring sunshine, of vast fields, chirping birds, and a tender breeze, but also the joy that she feels on the ice when everything is okay, the ease with which her body moves, and she holds onto these emotions, takes the melody, wraps it up, and locks it away into her hollow heart.

The pressure in her head lessens somewhat as she wills herself to sleep, focusing on the feeling of gliding, the scent of hydrangeas and roses, swirls of powder pink, greenish brown, and deep red, and long fingers strumming the strings.

_"Tomorrow will be better."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly cannot be grateful enough for all the amazing feedback I got so far from each and every one of you! I truly appreciate every single comment, kudo, and hit! Thank you! <3
> 
> This was very possibly the last chapter that featured one of our lovely ladies almost completely alone - I know you all are craving that Rosénali in-person content (and trust me, I am too :D), but I can promise you that I'll deliver it soon! <3
> 
> Take care, stay safe!


End file.
